


other people

by I_mNotYourEnemy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_mNotYourEnemy/pseuds/I_mNotYourEnemy
Summary: As he leads him towards the door, Albus knows he is well and truly fucked. It’s not often he meets new people who are more interested in him than his surname; it’s even rarer for those new people to be his age and exactly his type.AU in which Scorpius goes to Ilvermorny and crosses paths with Albus at a Ministry party.





	1. Chapter 1

Albus tugs at his collar, wishing for the sweet reprieve of losing his bowtie and robes. Despite the surprising yet stifling heat of the early summer months, his mother had insisted on full formal attire for the event. Albus resents her decision; she can swan about in a loose, floaty dress while he has to stew in his own perspiration. As if the outfit isn’t enough, the sheer amount of people around him only adds to stuffy surroundings, the sense of claustrophobia building as more tangential colleagues being to crowd. Yes, he’s entering his N.E.W.T. year; yes, he looks like his father; no, he doesn’t intend to follow in his father’s footsteps and become an Auror. He feels he should write these answers on a piece of parchment and stick it to his forehead; it would be much more time efficient.

His mother’s entertaining a few miscellaneous Ministry employees with barely-contained exasperation when Albus sees his opportunity to run. His urge for space outweighs his guilt; he’s only here because Lily is away with a friend on holiday and James hadn’t been able to get the time off work. Ginny hates coming to these Ministry shindigs alone. Harry always gets pulled off—he’s too soft to say no to people—and Ginny has started to refuse to be left floundering on her own. Albus is just as bad at being personable as she is; they usually have each other have each other with whom to exchange mirthful quips at the antics of these Ministry lackies. Now, though, Albus needs room to breathe. He doesn’t manage to catch her eye as he darts off. He’ll save her later when he’s recharged and ready to plaster his plastic smile on his face again.

The buffet calls to him as he manoeuvres his way through the crowd. Plates of tiny, elegantly assembled dishes decorate the table. Albus hasn’t a clue what half of them are but they all look too exquisite to eat, as if they should only be seen and not consumed. He’s contemplating where to start when he realises he’s not alone.

“Is there a reason you’re glaring at the salmon? Did it slight you in a past life?”

Albus glances to the man next to him, then freezes. He’s not a man, but not a boy. He seems to be about Albus’s age but a couple of inches taller. His frame is slimmer than Albus’s, perfectly silhouetted by tailored, charcoal robes. His pale features have a delicate sharpness to them, something Albus would usually associate with fairies. He’s perfectly styled in an effortlessly put together way that Albus knows he could never master. Grey eyes meet his own with amicable amusement.

“What?”

The boy smiles, his gaze averting awkwardly. “You were glaring at the salmon tarts.”

“Oh.” With surprising difficulty, Albus manages to look away from the other and back to the table. “I was just trying to figure out what to have.” The other is watching him when he glances up again. The intensity of his stare emboldens him rather than causing him to shy away, as he tends to do under such scrutiny. He finds he likes the attention. “Any idea what’s good?” He lowers his voice in a crude imitation of how he’s seen his friends talk to girls. He doesn’t know if his intended implication comes across.

“I’ve only had the desserts. The lemon meringue is incredible. I’m tempted to just steal the whole plate.”

Albus nods along and realises he hasn’t listened to a single word. The boy has a slight twang to his voice, an accent he can’t quite place.

“I’ll just leave it,” Albus replies. “I can pretend to keep deciding for a while. I’m just trying to avoid people.”

“Which people?”

“All people.” The other seems to deflate at the reply. Albus quickly rectifies, “Other people.”

“Other people who try to draw a scar on your forehead and ask about the war?”

Albus groans. “Don’t joke about that, it’s almost happened a few times.”

The other laughs and Albus is captivated. He should get out more; he shouldn’t be so taken by every pretty blonde who talks to him.

“I’m Albus,” he says.

“Scorpius,” the other replies, extending a hand to him. Albus shakes it.

“So, Scorpius, who are you avoiding?”

Scorpius doesn’t deny the accusation—it’s obvious he’d had the same plan as Albus to camp out by the buffet and avoid socialisation—and shrugs. “Also other people. I’m not great with crowds. I never know what to say and then I start babbling and it makes my father look bad.” He must catch Albus shooting a curious look about the room, as if searching for anyone who may look related to the boy. “Draco Malfoy, before you ask.”

Albus’s lips form a small ‘o’ in realisation. He’s heard the name over the years, from both his parents and the Hogwarts rumour mill. “I didn’t know he works for the Ministry.”

Scorpius nods. “He liaises with the American Ministry mostly—the MACUSA.”

Something clicks in Albus’s mind. “You guys live over there?”

“Accent gave it away?” A faint blush dusts his cheeks. “I lived in England for a while but we moved to New York when he got the new job. I can’t shake the accent.”

Albus glances away but smiles. “I like the accent.” He doesn’t miss Scorpius’s shy smile and quiet ‘thanks’. “You must go to Ilvermorny, right? I’ve never seen you at Hogwarts.”

“Yep. Means I always get left out whenever we come back and everyone starts reminiscing about their school days.”

“How come you didn’t come to Hogwarts? People portkey into King’s Cross all the time.”

The question seems to have deeper implications that he’d intended. “Would you want to go to a school with the weight of the name ‘Malfoy’?” Albus cringes. Years ago, there’d been rumours of an elicit encounter between the Malfoy wife and Lord Voldemort. People still wonder if it’s the reason she’d died. Albus can’t blame the Malfoys for wanting to avoid the stigma of previous generations; Albus finds the Potter name suffocating at times and his surname doesn’t even come with negative connotations. “Yeah. New beginnings and all that. Besides, it’s not so bad. You get used to Americans.”

Albus snorts a laugh. His excursion for peace and quiet hasn’t quite gone as planned but he finds that he doesn’t mind the prospect of spending some of his evening with the youngest Malfoy.

“Do you want to go outside?” Scorpius asks with a suddenness that makes Albus jump. “I don’t mean to presume anything but you’re the nicest person I’ve spoken to in the room and I don’t want to just leave but I was heading outside anyway since it’s so stuffy in here and—”

“Yes.” Albus cuts him off, halting the rambling.

Scorpius beams. “Wonderful.”

As he leads him towards the door, Albus knows he is well and truly fucked. It’s not often he meets new people who are more interested in him than his surname; it’s even rarer for those new people to be his age and exactly his type.

The garden Scorpius leads him to is vast and immaculately maintained. A stone patio leads down to a winding garden path that meanders up to a glistening fountain. Shorn bushes shaped like various animals are dotted about. Scorpius huffs a laugh.

“It looks like the garden at our England home, just without peacocks waking me up at five in the morning. Feathered heathens.”

Albus shoots him a quizzical look. “You’re an odd one.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Albus smiles to himself and sets off down the path. “Good, so far.” His smile widens as he hears Scorpius scramble to follow him. He slows as he reaches the fountain and peaks in. The base shimmers with the warped reflections of dozens of pennies.

“Are you going to wish for anything?” Scorpius asks. Albus glances to him. He tries to quell the hopeful swell in his chest, but he swears Scorpius is giving him a less than savoury look.

“Well, I’m hoping for something but I don’t think I need to throw money away for it.” He holds Scorpius’s gaze for a moment, searching to confirm his suspicions. He’s bolder than he would be usually, but something about the other sets him at ease. Besides, if it all goes south then he can always grab his parents, drag them home, and hope to never see a Malfoy again.

He sits on the edge of the fountain and smiles as Scorpius sits closer than strictly necessary. He’s wracking his brain for something suave or witty to say, wishing he had the effortlessly flirtatious ways of his elder brother, when Scorpius beats him to breaking the silence.

“I might be entirely wrong, so correct me if that’s the case, but I think there’s something going on here. Something not so platonic, I mean. I don’t want to assume anything, and I’m sorry if any of this is offensive, but I want to check before I make an ass of myself—”

“Can I kiss you?” For a second time, Albus interrupts him. He figures that without assistance, Scorpius may just prattle on forever, which would be such a shame when he could put his lips to much better use.

“Oh! Yes! That’s what I was about to—”

It’s becoming a habit to cut him off now but Albus has a feeling the other isn’t about to complain. He closes the gap between them to press his lips to Scorpius’s. One hand curls into the soft fabric of Scorpius’s robes as the other rises to cup the back of his head. Fingers thread through blonde locks and Albus spares a moment of satisfaction as he imagines how ruined the perfectly styled hair will be.

A quiet mewl sounds from Scorpius as he surges forward. Albus has to place a hand behind him to steady himself. His lips part under the other’s searching tongue and he meets the warmth with his own. Scorpius’s hands go wandering and skirt about the hem of Albus’s shirt, deftly working to untuck it and brush against the exposed skin. Albus shivers under the ministrations.

They part from the kiss briefly, cheeks heated and breath heavy.

“You’re wicked,” Albus murmurs, as he ducks to suck a mark at the base of Scorpius’s neck. The blonde tilts his head and hums. Albus knows he’s smiling.

When he’s happy with his work, he returns to the other’s lips. He tries to ground Scorpius and reign in his enthusiasm. He’s happy to sneak away from the party to snog pretty boys, but with the passion Scorpius shows, he’s not sure he’ll be able to control himself. Instead, they trade softer, languid kisses, relishing in the feel of the other against themselves. Hands explore new bodies and they smile against each other, perfectly content to learn just how to make the other’s breath hitch. Scorpius chuckles into their kiss as Albus flinches away from a particularly sensitive spot on his back. Albus nips at his lower lip in retaliation.

“I don’t mean to assume,” Scorpius says, voice so low Albus can feel the vibrations against him.

“You can definitely start assuming things now,” Albus replies, pressing a kiss to the corner of the other’s lips.

“We’re staying in England for the summer. Father has some business to attend to and—”

“Would you like to go on a date?” Albus asks, cutting to the point.

“I’d be honoured,” Scorpius says, and seals the deal with another kiss.

Albus thinks that his summer plans have just gotten a lot more interesting. Where previously he’d imagined hours of Quidditch and occasional excursions to Diagon Alley, images of lazing with Scorpius and taking him on cliché dates flood his mind. He knows he’s caught up in the moment, that he hardly knows his boy and shouldn’t feel so elated at the prospect of spending more time with him, but Scorpius is proving to be positively addictive. Albus can’t blame himself for getting carried away.

“Oh!”

The duo part with a sudden start, green and grey eyes wide. Albus flushes deeply as he meets his mother’s gaze.

“I lost you inside so I… Never mind. I’ll see you inside, Al.” Ginny swiftly turns on her heel and hurries away, leaving Albus to bury his head in his hands in shame.

“Oh, dear.” Scorpius rubs Albus’s back in soothing circles. “It’s not so bad. I’m sure she’s seen worse.”

“Thanks, Scor,” Albus says, words muffled. He rubs at his face and straightens up. With a deflated sigh, he pushes himself to stand. “I guess I should probably go back in.” Scorpius nods, eyes downcast as he picks at non-existence fluff on his robes. “Are you coming?”

Scorpius glances up, far too shy for someone who’d tried to shove his tongue down Albus’s throat not five minutes ago. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Albus nods. “You’re just about the only person I’ve met here who doesn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out. Besides, it’ll give my dad something to fuss over.”

Scorpius takes his hand when Albus holds it out to him, and then laces their fingers together. “A Potter and a Malfoy. I think we’d give the journalists inside a heart attack.”

Albus grins and steals a final kiss before pulling him back down the path. “Good.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Albus thinks Scorpius is mad, utterly mad. The boy would rather shack up with him in his hectic household when there’s a perfectly good, incredibly _empty_ mansion waiting for them to occupy. Scorpius says it’s homely. Albus thinks it’s hellish.

“It’s so lively, though,” Scorpius reasons. “You’d get bored at my house.”

“I’d have you to keep me entertained.” Wicked thoughts flicker through his mind and Albus grins. “Besides, I can think of a few ways we could keep ourselves occupied there.”

Scorpius rolls his eyes as Albus reaches for him, dragging him closer to pepper kisses against sun-kissed skin. The blonde tries to grab his hands and pull them off, but there’s laughter in his voice and no real effort in his actions. This is how Ginny finds them, tussling and giggling with chaste kisses sprinkled in between. Albus has Scorpius pinned beneath him when he finally notices her presence. He shoots her a sheepish smile but makes no move to get off his boyfriend.

“Glad to see you’re treating our guest well,” she jests. “I just wanted to see if you boys want some lunch.”

“Nah, we’re gonna go out for lunch,” Albus says.

“Oh. Alright, have fun. Be back by dinner.” She leaves them be and smiles as Scorpius calls ‘thank you, Mrs Potter’ after her.

Scorpius has this intense fascination with the Muggle café nearby. His endless curiosity and wonder at the vintage Muggle scenery never fail to warm Albus’s heart. Scorpius adores the old jukebox that sings in the corner and could spend hours playing the various pinball machines. It’s an odd place disjointed in time but brought together by an eclectic selection of items. Each piece of furniture is different from the next and Albus can never tell if the photographs on the wall are from genuine patrons decades ago or reworked to look older. The tea is cheap and the sandwiches are homemade, though, which is enough in and of itself to persuade the boys to frequent it as their regular date spot.

Crumbs litter their plates as the last of their tea slowly cools in their cups. Albus brings his to his lips as he rubs slow circles against Scorpius’s hand with his thumb. Scorpius is babbling about a Muggle inventor he’d learnt about recently. Albus focuses more on the brightness of his eyes and the erratic movement of his free hand than the other’s actual words. He’d feel guilty for not listening but he’s learnt to simply let Scorpius ramble on to his heart’s content when he finds something new to fixate on. He’s captivating when he gets like this, energetic and enthusiastic, simply overjoyed to be sharing knowledge with people. Albus thinks he would get along well with Aunt Hermione—that is, if Uncle Ron hasn’t ruined things for her yet. Only a few weeks ago, when Scorpius was still new to the Potter household and the boys still found the idea of constant companionship novel and decided to celebrate such closeness by snogging against every surface, Uncle Ron had appeared suddenly in the fireplace. Albus and Scorpius, who’d been getting rather familiar and intimate with each other on the sofa at the time, gave him such a fright he’d choked on his own yell and immediately flooed home. Ginny had gotten a right laugh when he’d told her.

“Serves you right for coming over unannounced,” she’d said.

Their first date to Diagon Alley had taken place almost a week after their initial meeting. After an awkward conversation with his mother about the certain unique issues raised by same-sex intimacies and staying safe, Albus had to endure further humiliation by asking where exactly the Malfoys lived. He’d been too preoccupied to get an address from Scorpius before they’d left and didn’t want to leave it too long lest his courage failed him or Scorpius forgot about him. He’d lasted until returning from the date before his father found out. Albus hadn’t been worried about the gay thing, more the _Malfoy_ thing. He knows his family hasn’t had the best of relations with them and while Harry has only ever been nothing but supportive of him, Albus couldn’t be sure about this one. Harry, to his credit, had taken in his stride, albeit somewhat stumblingly. He’d been almost too overzealous in ensuring that Albus knew he wanted nothing but happiness for his son. It had been an alarming few hours before Ginny had stepped in to calm him down.

Albus had found himself seeing Scorpius almost every day after that point. They often met out, but also visited the other’s home to hang out. Scorpius had become such a fixture in the Potter household that his parents had eventually, to Albus’s great surprise, invited him to stay for the remaining weeks of summer. It’s been both a blessing and a curse, Albus finds. He’s never had someone he’s instantly clicked with on such a deep level as Scorpius, but he knows that the date of Scorpius’s departure back to America is ever-nearing.

Scorpius quietens after he’s exhausted the life story of this Tesla guy. He gives Albus’s hand a small squeeze when he sees the worried lined between the other’s brows.

“Everything okay?”

Albus gives an unconvincing smile. “Yeah. You have everything you need for final year?”

A look of understanding passes over Scorpius’s features. “Almost. There’s some things I need to pick up from our New York home but then I’ll be sorted.”

“Week on Monday, right?”

Scorpius nods. They haven’t spoken about it much. Being joined at the hip and then thousands of miles apart isn’t something either know how to deal with. Scorpius hadn’t minded leaving before; he’s never had anyone to say goodbye to until now.

“You know I’ll wait for you, right?” Albus says. “It’s gonna suck and I’m gonna miss you like hell but I’ll be here when we’re done.”

“Don’t be silly,” Scorpius says. Albus feels his heart fracture at the statement. “You don’t need to wait. I don’t want you being miserable because of me. You don’t need to hold yourself prisoner to some boy in America.”

Albus blinks. He’s not a prisoner. Scorpius is his first boyfriend and Albus thinks he’s very much in love with him. “Are you just saying that? Because I’m absolutely going to be a sulky mess as soon as you’re gone.”

Scorpius holds his hand so tightly Albus thinks he might lose feeling in it. “I don’t want to upset you or be the reason you’re sad. I want you to be happy.”

“ _You_ make me happy, you plonker.”

“You make me happy, too,” Scorpius replies. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Albus can only give a small smile. He fears he may cry if they dwell on this topic for too long.

“I’m going to write to you every week,” Scorpius continues. “I’d do every day but I don’t think that would be very efficient. I’ll write you a novel every time, even if it’s just me telling you how amazing you are over and over again.”

Albus’s chest swells at the sheer earnestness of Scorpius’s assurances. “I’ll write to you too. I can’t promise novels but I’ll try.”

Scorpius smiles brightly at him.

Albus knows he’s in love.

 

* * *

 

Albus can’t find it in him to regret joining the Malfoys as they readied for their portkey back to America. He can still feel the dampness from where Scorpius had cried into their embrace, the warmth from when Scorpius had told him he loved him. Ginny says nothing as she apparates them home. Albus is silent for the rest of the day.

He already has a couple of letters by the time he’s packed for Hogwarts. He’s sent off a lengthy reply telling Scorpius all about the end of summer family gathering and to let him know that the next time he writes he should address it to Hogwarts. The letters are stored safely in his trunk as he boards the train and it all feels easier knowing they’re there.

When his friends ask about his summer, he’s not quite sure what to say. Of course, being teenage boys, they pick up on his hesitation instantly and jibe him about his secret girlfriend until Albus decides he’s had enough and corrects them. He’s pretty sure no one believes him about his boyfriend from another school until more letters start coming in. He almost feels sorry for the owls who bring them, weighed down by the heft of Scorpius’s meandering rambling. He always makes sure to give them a few treats as he sets about reading them. It always eases the ache, reading the letters. Scorpius writes exactly as he talks, tangential and off topic, but genuine, nonetheless. Albus can hear his voice as he reads the words and while it quells his sorrow, it also only hardens his desire to see the boy once again. The teasing about his foreign boyfriend slowly stops the more wistful and homesick Albus looks. He’s almost glad for it.

Soon enough, though, he doesn’t have enough time to spare to feel sorry for himself. His schedule is packed with studies and Quidditch, and he hardly has enough time to relax, let alone mope. The months whizz by faster than he could have ever expected, despite the warnings of his elders. It feels like only a week has passed before he’s once again boarding the Hogwarts Express, this time homeward bound.

There’s a buzz in the air as they all rush to find empty compartments. Festivities had been put on hold while the seventh years slaved away at their studies. Now, two weeks of unadulterated relaxation awaits them. Albus partakes in his own share of glee; in just over week, Scorpius will be over to celebrate the New Year with his family. Warmth fills him as he thinks about giving Scorpius the new books he’d bought him. He imagines Scorpius’s bright smile as he rests his head against the window, closing his eyes for just a second.

Someone jostles his shoulder what feels like moments later, and Albus jumps. His neck aches from his awkward, and he realises he’d fallen asleep. When he looks outside, he sees the train slowing as it enters King’s Cross. He joins the others in rising and gathering his belongings, blinking sleep from his eyes. Soon, he’s filing out of the compartment and making his way to the carriage door. He steps aside once he’s on the platform and glances around, searching for his parents. Instead, he spots an all too familiar mop of blonde hair. A wide grin cracks his lips and he sets off running.

Scorpius steadies himself as Albus tackles him, squeezing him into a suffocating hug. The crowd parts around them as students find their families, ignoring the lovers’ reunion taking place.

“You’re here!” Albus exclaims.

“I am,” Scorpius replies with barely contained laughter. Albus muffles the mirth with his lips, not caring about anyone who can see.

He later learns, when he’s calmed down but still not let go of Scorpius’s hand, that Scorpius’s dad had agreed to let him come over to England early on the proviso that he return home for Christmas. Albus decides in that moment to discard everything his family have ever said about Draco Malfoy.

 

* * *

 

 

“Should I leave it combed or ruffled? Is my parting crooked?”

Albus watches from his bed as Scorpius messes with his hair for the hundredth time. “You look hot however you do it.” He meets Scorpius’s gaze in the mirror and grins when he spots the rising blush on his cheeks. “Leave it messed up. I’ll only ruin it later.”

Scorpius huffs. “You’re so depraved.”

Albus shrugs. “You say that a lot.” He decides not to mention that Scorpius never complains when Albus’s lips are on him, or when he casts silencing charms and pulls him to bed. The holidays mean a constant full house of Potters and visitors; they’ve grown more careful and slyer in their sultry affairs.

Scorpius turns to him. “Really, though, do I look okay?”

Albus drinks in the sight of him head to toe. He’s in a Muggle suit but ditched the jacket and tie. Tailored black trousers do wonders to accentuate his legs and Albus adores the shade of green he’s picked his shirt in. Personally, he loves it when Scorpius leaves his hair uncombed. It sends a myriad of lewd thoughts through his head about what exactly could lead to that perfectly messy hair, but he keeps it to himself lest he embarrass Scorpius into taming it again. “You look delectable.”

Scorpius rolls his eyes. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

Scorpius throws his hairbrush at him.

Despite Albus’s reassurances that he’ll be fine, Scorpius is still a nervous wreck as they floo over to the Burrow. Meeting the parents and siblings is one thing; being thrown into an entire pack of extended family is another.

Albus arrives first and is immediately accosted by Gran. She has her floral apron on with her wand tucked behind one ear, as if she’d been charming something and needed to hastily store it to hug Albus. Scorpius follows next, and receives the same motherly treatment.

“You must be Scorpius! Goodness, you’re a tall one. Come in, come in, dear.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am. It’s lovely to meet you,” Scorpius says, allowing himself to be dragged this way and that.

Gran looks positively delighted at his Manhattan twang. “How sweet. He’s a keeper, Al. Always keep the polite ones.”

Albus grins. Scorpius will be fine.

As gingers of varying generations start to arrive, Albus gives Scorpius a tour of the place, pointing out numerous relations as they pass. Scorpius, an only child with a widowed father, struggles to keep up but tries his best.

As the clock nears midnight, the clan file out into the garden. George has been put in charge of fireworks, with Harry assisting in the set up. Albus tells Scorpius that the fireworks are always the best around. Uncle George won’t tell anyone which ones he uses and they only get better every year.

They find a secluded patch of grass to sit on, ignoring James’s wolf-whistles as they wander away from the gathered crowd. Albus puts his middle finger up at him and throws a half-hearted apology over his shoulder when his mother catches him.

Anticipation grows as the minutes tick by, but Albus has never been one for patience and Scorpius doesn’t complain when he pulls him closer before the countdown’s even begun. They kiss through the shouting and cheers, and only pause for long enough to wish each other a happy new year when the fireworks start going off. Despite Albus’s dazzling reviews of previous shows, he doesn’t mind missing this one, and loses himself in Scorpius instead. He knows the year ahead has many large unknowns on the horizon, but he feels it’s going to be a year to remember. His future is uncertain and he hasn’t a clue what the following months will hold for him. All he knows is that he wants Scorpius by his side through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is actually really different to how i thought the second part would be, but it seems like too good of a place to end it.
> 
> if i wanted to be on brand i would have posted this on new years eve but oh well, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
